Black and Blue
by StraddlingTheAtmosphere
Summary: Castiel's always had a thing for black hair and blue eyes, and a meeting with a former vessel leads to some undiscovered truths between four people. Dean/Castiel, implied Peter/Neal.


Title: Black and Blue  
Fandom: Supernatural x White Collar Crossover  
Genre: Romance  
Spoilers: None  
Warnings: actually this is pretty tame.  
Characters: Dean, Castiel, Neal, Peter  
Pairings: Cas/Dean, implied Neal/Peter and pre-Neal/Peter/Elizabeth  
Summary: Castiel's always had a thing for black hair and blue eyes, and a meeting with a former vessel leads to some undiscovered truths between four people.

* * *

Jimmy Novak is not Castiel's first vessel. This is a common misconception. Yes, Castiel had told Dean that he hadn't been on Earth for two thousand years, but he may have…fibbed a little bit.

Truthfully, the last time he had been on Earth was perhaps…well, he couldn't really pinpoint the date. Angels are ancient beyond belief and one section of time is nothing in the grand scheme of things.

What he was down there for is, or was, classified. He could probably share it now, but he sees no point in dwelling in the past.

What is he talking about again?

"Cas. _Cas_!" The angel glances up at his charge's face, blinking rapidly.

Dean raises an eyebrow, "Where were you, dude? And why do you keep looking at him?" He gestures at the suited, blue-eyed man looking at him across the street.

Oh, yes.

"Is he a demon or something?" Dean's antsy, not used to being in the city, and New York of all places makes it hard to stay inconspicuous. Castiel lays a reassuring hand on his arm and he visibly calms, sighing and leaning into the touch.

"No, he is not. Although, I do know him." The fact that that man is staring back makes a tingle of recognition light up in his mind, and he scours his vast memories for this particular man's name.

He's walking closer now and Castiel _still doesn't remember _and this is frustrating because he never used to have these memory gaps.

He meets those blue eyes again and the man walking with him reaches up to steal his hat teasingly, revealing a shock of satiny black hair. The sight jolts Castiel's mind and his eyes widen, his mouth murmuring a name as the two men pass.

_Neal Caffrey._

The man—Neal—jerks and turns his head sharply, meeting Cas' head on. His fingers twitch, like he wants to grab Castiel and shove him against the wall, but the urge is contained.

He strides closer, head low, and the angel feels Dean's warmth as his body moves slightly in front of his own, stance wary and defensive.

"Listen, buddy—"

"How do you know my name?" Neal cuts Dean off, voice low, eyes burning into Castiel's.

"I'm surprised you don't remember me, Neal. Although, the last time we talked, it was nearly fifteen years ago." Neal's eyes widened, the blue in them almost entirely obscuring the irises.

"No way," he breathes, opening his mouth to say more, but his companion pulls him back.

"Neal, is he talking about those years no one knows about you? Your years off the grid completely?"

"I—Peter, can we talk about this later?" Peter narrows his eyes, gazing at him for a long moment before nodding, turning back to profile the two men in front of him.

The dark-haired one holds shocking similarities to Neal—a rather unkempt one, as it is—all slender body, messy black hair and big blue eyes. His voice is deeper, like a gravel road, and his eyes hold an ancient, alien sort of knowledge that shakes Peter with its vastness, a mysterious power hidden beneath that compact skin and muscle.

His companion—in he didn't know how many ways—is taller and bulkier than the other, muscles rippling through his shirt, green eyes wary and appraising. There is something vaguely familiar about the man, although he cannot put his finger on it, familiar in that short-cut dark blonde hair and cocky half-smile on full lips. There's pain but peace in those eyes, the strange combination making them even brighter, and something about the man just screams _I've had a hard life, but I'm okay now._

If he didn't know any better, he'd say it is the same look Neal wears now, those bright eyes still holding his pain and suffering but the soft hint of peace lulling them to geniality.

"Cas, how do you know him?" Dean asks, voice hushed and serious.

"He is of my past. A very large part of my last stationing on Earth." He lets that sink in and watches as the hunter's eyes widen and he shoots a glance at the two men talking a few yards away. Tilting his head, he notices how a smirk forms itself on Dean's lips, eyes looking Neal up and down and then back to Castiel.

"So you have a type, huh?" Castiel furrows his eyebrows, opening his mouth to ask him to explain himself, when Neal barges in, overexcited and eager.

"Neal," the angel raises his eyebrows.

Neal has the decency to look sheepish, small grin lighting his face. "Sorry, it's just…Castiel, is that really you?" Castiel smiles softly and nods.

"How—why? Why did you come back?"

"It is a long story. One you needn't concern yourself with," the angel says gently, hand resting on Neal's shoulder.

"I—okay, but you—I—thank you. Just, thank you." Neal's eyes are huge and gleaming in the sunlight, black hair soaking all the sun to add extra shine.

"It's of no import, Neal." Neal ducks his head and flushes, looking very young and innocent all of a sudden.

"That guy, is he…?"

"This is my own body now."

An inscrutable look passes on the man's face. "And he's good, right? Like, he's okay?"

"He is in heaven, if that is what you mean." Neal blows out a breath, nodding jerkily. Suddenly, Castiel is able to distinguish the emotion that passed on the young man's face.

"I wouldn't have picked you again for this. You job was done the moment I left you. Angels do not break promises."

"I know; it's just…scary because that could've been me. It could've been me up in Heaven while you lived in my body and-and that's kind of scary not being in control like that." A flash of guilt seeps in Castiel's conscience as he thinks of Jimmy and how unfair all of this was to him, and he sighs, deep and world-weary.

"This is the way things were meant to be. The Lord—"

"Works in mysterious ways, yeah, thanks Castiel. As if I hadn't heard that enough," Neal grins and the somber spell is broken, the bond between a former vessel and its angel easy and stress-free again.

* * *

Meanwhile, the other two men are watching their respective black-haired, blue-eyed partners, one wary and slightly confused, the other gazing fondly at his.

"So, I see we've got the same taste," Dean smirks at the agent, winking lewdly. Peter's taken aback.

"What?"

"Oh, please, Fed," Dean scoffs, "You've got _mine_ written all over you. But don't worry. He may physically be my type but...he's not." Eyes wide and completely overwhelmed, he latches on to the one thing that Dean says that makes any sense.

"Fed? Only one other person I know calls me that…and he's not exactly the picture of innocence." Dean's eyes widen and a slight smile graces his lips.

"I'm clean, dude." Dean cocks an eyebrow, "Trust me."

"Somehow, I don't find that reassuring," Peter says drily. Dean grins.

"You know, you're not too bad for a Fed."

"So it's been said." There's a pause as the two men gauge each other, a predatory animal instinct in both their eyes.

Dean's the one to break it first. "So, your guy, what was he in for?" He asks, nodding to the anklet blinking on Neal's leg.

A slight smile manifests itself on the agent's usual hard face.

"A lot of "alleged" stuff. We caught him for something I don't think he actually did." _Mozzie_, he thinks as his eyes cut to the young man.

Dean laughs, a quiet huff of amusement just barely there, and he seems surprised, as if he hasn't laughed in a long time. "You've got a thing for the bad boys, Fed." Peter flushes under his scrutinizing, fingers clenching as he looks up at him.

Dean's got one side of his lips curled up in a sort of half-smile with a sadness that punches Peter in the gut.

"It's alright; I can keep a secret. I've just got a thing for the good ones." And his voice sounds anguished, and Peter can't handle that, he really can't. Something about this man makes his skin crawl as if he's just not normal, not right, and the underlying sense of recognition is not making it any better.

* * *

Neal and Castiel watch their two companions converse, noting Peter's barely concealed tense stance, and Dean's feigned relaxation.

Neal sighs, threading his fingers through his hair.

"I'm happy for you." Startled, Neal looks up, blue meeting blue.

"For what?"

"You've become what you were always meant to be, and found someone to make you happy in the process. This is a good thing, Neal." Neal swallows, breathing in deeply.

"Yeah, thanks for that, by the way, taking me over and then leaving me right where Peter could find me and arrest me," Neal glares. Castiel shrugs, an odd-looking gesture on him, and avoids his eyes.

"It was for the best."

"Yeah, it's just…not that I'm unhappy for the friendship—which I am, really—it's just…I want more. But he's got this wife, and she's beautiful, funny, smart, gorgeous, and I can't do that to him. I can't."

"Have you talked to him about this?" The angel asks gently.

"I—" The reformed conman opens and closes his mouth repeatedly. "No, I haven't," he says thoughtfully.

After a few beats of silence, he turns to meet Castiel's gaze head-on, something sharp and conniving in his eyes. Castiel looks at him warily.

"What about you?"

Castiel's brow furrows.

"Oh, please, like I haven't seen the way you look at him, like he's the savior of the world or something."

"He is the savior of the world," Castiel says quietly, head bowed, voice reverent. It's enough to bring Neal up short, the certainty in the angel's voice.

"…what?"

"I said, he _is_ the savior, the Messiah of this modern world. Without him, _you wouldn't even be here_," Castiel's head is up now, eyes blazing pure and righteous, invisible wind tousling his hair and billowing his trench coat. Right now, he doesn't even look _human_, and Neal swallows, mouth suddenly dry.

And just as soon as it came, it stops, and Castiel wilts again, looking soft and vulnerable.

"This is why I cannot have him. It would be _blasphemy_," he hisses, some of that alien spark in his eyes again, beating faintly in the ocean of the color.

"Uh, alright, angel-boy," Neal says, hands up in the air. He pauses for a moment, "but what if he wants you too? If it's reciprocal…"

"It's not." The poor angel's voice is quiet and sad, blue eyes dim. This time, Neal laughs and Castiel's head jerks up, glaring at the conman.

"If you really think that," he says between fits of laughter, "then you really know nothing about the human race. That man is head over heels for you."

If Castiel had looked intense before, nothing could be compared to the star-struck look in his eyes now.

"C'mon, he looks like you like you're the only one who can ever give him any sort of relief from whatever his crazy life has been. He looks at you like you can give him peace, oblivion. He looks at you like you're his angel." Neal smiles, a little sadly.

"Looks like we both want things that are no good for us." Castiel huffs quietly, agreeing.

"Hey, Cas." The angel looks up at his charge's voice, face softening almost imperceptibly.

"You ready to go? 'Cause Sam's going to be wondering where we are…" Dean trails off, caught by Castiel's sharp stare, an inscrutable look in his eyes.

Seconds pass while Neal and Peter look on, uncomfortably aware that they're intruding on an intimate moment. Suddenly, Castiel shakes himself, blinking rapidly.

"I—yes, yes, you're right. We should be on our way. Nice to meet you, Peter," he says, nodding at him. "And pleasure to see you again, Neal." He says this quietly, voice soft and eyes even softer. He shoots Neal a poignant look, and Neal submits to it, rolling his eyes and shooing them away, but not before giving Castiel one of his own patented stares.

The angel, for his part, only curls his lips upward slightly, letting Dean pull him away.

Neal turns to look at Peter, holding up a hand.

"Let's not talk about this today, okay? I need some time to think." He turns to look at the two figures walking away, the sun darkening their silhouettes, bringing out the gold in Dean's hair and the inky texture of Castiel's. They both look like angels.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, the warmth of its broadness seeping through his clothes. Neal looks up at him, and they're caught, suspended in a moment where their two hearts beat as one, and their eyes don't part.

* * *

The walk back to Sam is quiet, contemplative, as they move shoulder to shoulder. When they reach the diner, Castiel stops and turns to Dean.

"Dean." Castiel looks nervous, an expression Dean has only seen once on him before.

"Yeah, Cas?" The angel looks down, chewing slowly on his bottom lip. He looks around quickly before grabbing Dean's wrist and pulling him into the alley between the diner building and its neighbor.

"What—"

"Shut up, Dean, I need to tell you something and you must promise not to think less of me if you don't agree." Dean blinks, trying to process what the angel just said, but it's a little difficult when said angel is pressed up against him in the most provocative way possible, breath warm and soft against his lips.

"I—uh, yeah, 'course."

"I…" Castiel pauses, fingers curling reflexively onto Dean's shirt. "I do not know how to say this. I…" Castiel trails off again, looking lost, mouth slightly parted, eyes huge and solemn. His breath is coming hot and fast, fingers twisting and untwisting in Dean's shirt and Dean can't take it anymore, pushing himself up against the angel's body, lifting his chin up with his finger and pressing his lips down to Cas'.

The angel freezes, eyes going impossibly bigger, but Dean's determined, keeping the kiss chaste and close-mouthed until Castiel relaxes against him, melting into the hunter and parting his lips.

Dean makes an aborted sound when Castiel tentatively touches his tongue to Dean's, and the angel sucks in a rapid breath at Dean's response, the kiss slowly getting deeper and fiercer.

Their breathing is panting and harsh when they pull apart, eyes locked on each other's, hands still tangled in the other's hair and clothing.

"You know, I'm no good with words either, Cas," Dean says, voice rough and hoarse.

Castiel lets out a startled laugh, breath huffing against Dean's skin as he presses kisses to his jaw and neck.

"And besides," Castiel pulls away to look at Dean, those green eyes bright and mischievous. "I kind of figured you had a type that I had a thing for, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know if you noticed, but Neal looks a lot like you." Dean licks his lips appreciatively. "You know just how to make me crazy, don't you?"

Castiel raises an eyebrow, biting at Dean's pulse point that flutters rapidly under his lips. Dean groans and his head falls back.

"What was that for?" He asks, breathless.

"The only type you're allowed to have now, is me," the angel says, voice dark and possessive, eyes reflecting his tone.

Dean swallows and reaches up to pull Cas in for another kiss. "No arguments there."

"The only _thing_ I have for anyone now is _you_," the angel growls into his charge's mouth, feeling his full-body shudder against him.

"Yes, _yes_," Dean gasps, letting his face press into his angel's neck, soft inky hair rubbing silkily against his skin.

* * *

Months later, Neal is frantic, moving around the room in hyper-speed, body covered in splotches of paint. A knock on the door nearly causes him to lose his balance and crash into his easel, but he catches himself just in time.

Grumbling quietly, he opens the door, peeking out to see his favorite FBI agent.

"Peter," he crows, grinning spectacularly. "Come in, come in!" Peter is ushered in, mouth quirking bemusedly, holding a bagged lunch from El and a note. Neal takes both of them and puts them away distractedly, energy practically vibrating off his body.

"What are you so excited about?" He asks as he settles himself onto the couch.

"I finished it! I finished it!" Neal is so happy he's flailing his hands and dancing around, an infectious joy that causes the agent to smile.

He catches Neal's wrist and pulls him closer, loving how the conman just melts into him, nuzzling his neck excitedly.

"Yeah? Show me this first Neal Caffrey original, then." Neal pulls away, eyes crinkling around his grin.

Biting his lip, the reformed conman takes a deep breath and pulls back the easel covering.

* * *

Exactly three weeks later, Dean opens his newspaper to look for a case and stops on the front page, an art gallery article catching his eye. As he turns the page to finish reading it, he is met with a picture of the main painting. A startled sound breaks from his throat and he stands up abruptly, newspaper slipping from his grasp as he runs to the door calling "Cas!"

Behind him, the newspaper flutters gently to the floor, still open on the same page.

A green-eyed man gazes in awe at the raven-haired being piercing him with an unsettling blue gaze, winged shadows unfurled mightily behind him.

_Neal Caffrey's first original work and centerpiece, titled: Righteous Man Doubts Nevermore. _

_

* * *

_

A/N: WOOH. THAT'S FINALLY DONE, THANK GOD.

Uh, where is Sam in all this (besides at the end where he's at the diner)...I don't know...Let's pretend he was at the library or something. Maybe he was talking to Mozzie and they were having geekasms together about some controversy. IDK.

And...who knows...this may become a 'verse. I may write that Mozze and Sam meeting, and maybe I'll delve more into the past and give you guys some vessel!Neal with Castiel inside him. IDK. Depends how this turns out I guess.

...Anyway, GIVE FEEDBACK BECAUSE NEAL'S AND CASTIEL'S EYES ARE PUPPY BEGGING YOU TOO.


End file.
